


Princes, Kings, & Gifts

by AdrenalineRevolver



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Conditioning, Elves, Kidnapping, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prince Spot, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21960376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrenalineRevolver/pseuds/AdrenalineRevolver
Summary: The Prince of Brooklyn is given an unheard of gift by his father. What will become of the gift once the prince discovers it?
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Hot Shot
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	1. Wrapping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [velocity_times_2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/velocity_times_2/gifts).



Hotshot had to resist the urge to shake when he was lead into the water. Perhaps it was the long journey in a glorified box making him seemingly unused to moving his legs; then again, fear no doubt played a part in his lack of ability to keep his balance. He knew from hearsay that Brooklyn’s castle was built on hot springs but being brought into the bathhouse and stripped by the attendants made his situation all the more real. When he was first captured he could deny everything, label it all as some bizarre nightmare. Yet the nearly-too hot water against his skin was something he couldn’t deny.

Beautifully carved stairs lead down into what looked like a cave system that held the springs. Along the walls were ancient symbols that his mother once taught him. An entire language made up of mostly flowers so that to those who couldn’t understand they would simply look like art rather than messages. The spindly petaled flowers were witch hazel; they were used to indicate that something in the area was healing as the plant was. They were growing around a crabapple tree indicating that the location was as holy as the life-giving tree.

He could always understand why the tree was so important. The fruit was used for pastries, drinks, and preserved for harder times. The wood made decent tools. The flowers were beautiful and smelled just as nice. It was just strange to see a carving of the tree here. Here where he was just no doubt to be the toy of a human king. 

“Hey new girl, keep an eye on him. He looks as if he will fall over.” The leader of his guard’s voice was far deeper than his own but he supposed it was feminine to her. He’d met no Rakshasa before being brought here but he could see why they were regarded as so fearsome. Few changes differentiated her from a wild tiger. She dressed herself in overtly feminine attire and Hotshot suspected this was because humans would have a hard time otherwise discerning her gender. 

“Yes ma’am.” A human girl, presumably new to her position, quickly put her hand on his back. Like the Rakshasa her accent was foreign however it was much closer than Hotshot expected. What was a Manhattanite doing here?

“Ma’am. Look at her still being all polite!” A woman who looked to be around his mother’s age giggled at the human. At first he had assumed the dark haired woman to be human as well but now that he was close to her he could see that her hair had a strange green hue. “Nisha is about as dangerous as a kitten, dear, as long as nobody causes trouble.” 

“It is easier to keep order if people suspect I will eat them.” Nisha seemed to almost smile as she stepped out of her dress. The tone in her shoulders told Hotshot that there was no escaping. Even if he was armed and she wasn’t she could likely snap him in half if she wanted to. Dangerous as a kitten his ass. 

The water was mercifully hot enough that he’s able to tune out most of their conversation for something akin to rest. They asked something about if the human’s father was recovering from his injuries and if her brothers were taking to their new jobs well. He really didn’t have it in him to care. He knew he should be looking for leverage however he just needed to try not to think for a moment. 

Realistically, he probably should have expected that he wouldn’t be allowed to just soak. A comb was carefully run through his hair by the human, she was delicate enough that Hotshot suspected she had only ever done this for family. As she went she rubbed a material that vaguely smelled like honey into his hair, it would have been relaxing to have his scalp massaged if he didn’t know that it was likely just to appease whoever he would be given to.

His nails were filed, another weapon taken from him. For a moment he thought they would be painted like Nisha’s long claws, however, taking away the length seemed to be satisfactory enough. 

His body was scrubbed diligently with what smelled like lavender though he wasn’t sure what it was mixed with; maybe the silt from the hot spring itself. It was when they started to work on his hips that Hotshot began to put together why these women had been chosen to prepare him. There were no comments, no attempts to flirt. If anything the newest girl seemed more flustered by the other two than him. It seemed whoever had arranged this didn’t want him to be having any sort of fun. 

When they seemed satisfied that he was clean the green haired woman lead him out of the water and proceeded to rub something that he could tell had beeswax in it over him. The soft sent of apple blossoms from the material was enough to almost lull him into a sense of security. Almost. 

He was dressed in a simple red silk peplos that stopped at the thighs. Black and gold embroidery resembling vines encircled the hem. It would be pretty if it wasn’t for the collar around his neck. 

Shoes weren’t bothered with. Of course they weren’t. Why would he need them with his job?

The halls he was lead through were undeniably beautiful. He would be the first to admit that elves didn’t often make things of stone and metal but when they did it was like life itself was breathed into the lifeless materials. Every doorway was arched, every pillar had vines carved into them, and the windows were filled with stained glass depictions of heroes long past. 

It made the room he ended up in all the stranger. It was undeniably the bedroom of royalty in some manner. Who else would have a balcony overlooking such a beautiful courtyard? Not to mention what looked to be a private bathroom with a tub carved into solid stone. Yet, that seemed to be the end of the luxury. 

There was a desk made of solid wood, yet it wasn’t overly ornate. The chair was much the same; it even had what looked to be a wobbly leg that had been hastily repaired with unwanted paper. Abandoned on the desk was a letter with a royal seal that Hotshot in no way had the courage to read.

There was a bed that was quite comfortable, however it didn’t seem to be filled with something ridiculous like peacock feathers. It seemed like it was a wool mattress laid over a rope bedstead. Undeniably nice, but something you might could make for yourself if you had the time. 

There was even a small bookcase with a collection of material pertaining to history, various cultures, and a few fanciful tales. Interestingly, the language shifted from the ones humans wrote in to elvish and back. If you looked past the addition of himself this could be the room of a young scholar or maybe the squire of a particularly wealthy night, but it seemed strange for royalty. 

Hotshot’s legs were chained to the bed and some quick goodbyes were whispered. The green haired woman paused at the door. “It’ll be alright dear. Just, don’t worry if he acts a bit…strange.” With that she was out. 

Strange? That boded ill. He was beginning to wonder if he’d live long enough to make an escape attempt. 

He ended up falling asleep before he was found; in his defense it had been a rather long day on top of a long journey.

“What the fuck?” A loud voice startled him awake. Standing in the doorway was a half-elf with a human on either side. He was dressed plainly in red and black sparring gear yet the ornate sword was likely worth more than most anything in the room. Not unlike the room itself it would seem its owner was understated in the way he used his wealth. 

“Your dad did mention a gift.” One of the humans, taller than the half-elf and baring a scar through his brow, grimaced. “Since it was a hunting trip I kind of figured I dunno. A deer or something?” 

“Should we uh, go?” The other, the tallest of the three and dotted with freckles that the other human lacked, offered. Hotshot wasn’t one to pray but he found himself doing so hoping the half-elf would say yes. Three armed men were not something he wanted to be alone with. 

The half-elf, the prince most likely, looked at him as if someone had put a dead rat in his bed. “Yeah you two uh. Head back to the barracks. I’ll be by in the morning.”

“Sure thing.” The scarred human glanced at Hotshot before correcting himself. “I mean, of course your-“

“Oh fuck off.” He shooed them and shut the door behind himself once they were gone. Then he sort of just remained there. Leaned up against the door as if he was afraid of Hotshot. “I um. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Hotshot tried to keep himself from adding the word. He really did. But shortly after his capture it had been drilled into him over and over what he should call this man. So he did. “Master.” 

The prince’s entire body tensed. “That’s not necessary.”

Hotshot just nodded, knowing that he would be unable to keep from saying it again. 

“Let me-“ The prince took a step towards him before freezing. “Wait, I’m going to unchain you. Okay?” 

This could be his chance. He nodded and let his legs hang over the bed. 

The prince came closer and lifted Hotshot’s leg to get a look at the lock. From this distance Hotshot could clearly see the large doe-like eyes that he’d likely inherited from his mother and his more human-like nose. It made him curious about how the prince’s body functioned. Was he able to weave magic inside of himself like most elves could or did it elude him like most humans? 

Your average elf could use magic to shift themselves drastically enough that sex meant little to nothing to them. If one was born male and didn’t want to be it would be a matter of focus to shift it until it was simply the way you were. Truly the biggest difference was if one was willing and able to carry a child or not which humans couldn’t really seem to differentiate from sex.

Hotshot’s ability with magic was weaker than most. He could change himself in those ways if he wanted but other than that he really only seemed to be able to notice certain things. He could hear things he shouldn’t be able to. Smell things that were indiscernible. It was better than nothing, yet he still sometimes couldn’t help but be envious of the ones who could heal others or conjure fire.

“Shit.” The prince sighed. “They didn’t leave the key. I’m sorry.” 

Was this a trap? It had to be. “It’s alright, M-“

“No it’s not.” He set Hotshot’s leg down and looked around the room. “Did my father tell you anything?” 

He shook his head. He didn’t remember much about the king at all. Just that he was a decent shot with a dart.

“Well he sent me a fucking letter before you got here. Said he had a gift that should ‘help my problem’ fucking bastard.” He started to pace, seemingly getting more admitted just by talking about the king.

Oh boy. Problems. Hotshot just loved the idea of being a toy for a prince with problems. 

“I’d hoped that you would be some nice girl to turn down.” He huffed.

He was going to be turned into a eunuch wasn’t he? He supposed he could try to offer the use of his powers but it was hard to maintain if you didn’t want it. If it wasn’t right.

“But apparently the man has lost his mind.” The prince all but tossed the top layer of his gear across the room. It clattered to the ground in a messy pile. 

Apple doesn’t fall far.

The prince practically threw himself onto the edge of the bed and Hotshot could feel his heart stop. Could he grab the sword from here? There’d be no way he could kill the prince and get away. Not with his legs chained. Maybe if he ran himself-

“Hey, are you alright?’ The prince put his hand on Hotshot’s shoulder only to draw it away like he’d been burned when Hotshot winced. “Shit. Fuck. Listen, I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m not…not even gonna touch you unless it’s alright. This is my fault. My father is punishing me because I told him the truth about why I hadn’t been interested in any of the girls he’d lined up.” He stood and took a careful step back. “I’m going to go get cleaned off, when I get back we’ll figure out what to do. Cause this shit isn’t even legal here, not even for royalty. Okay?”

Hotshot couldn’t really do much else other than nod. 

Strange indeed.


	2. Bows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prince choses to hide from his problems where we all do: The bathroom.

Spot wouldn’t say that he had dreaded the King’s return. He would simply rather not have to go back to walking on eggshells around the man. 

He took the bucket of water off the fireplace and poured it into the tub, not bothering to check the temperature before throwing in some rose water and climbing in. Of all the luxuries he could dream of the only one he would refuse to give up was being clean. 

His mother was a perfectly capable ruler on her own. She could follow the complicated social rituals of the Mer and Selkies that lived on the shores of Brighton. She was kind enough that the Fawns and Huldra of Prospect forest would speak to her. Even the traders from the east were fond of the soft-spoken elf.

She honestly allowed the kingdom to run the way it was meant to. While the neighboring kingdom of Manhattan had all of these human specific rules since its induction Brooklyn had only benefited by ensuring that it was remembered that their original founder came from a long line of elven kings and queens. Arranging any sort of dinner for the court was a nightmare however they flourished all the same.

But of course his father had to return. He always managed to. Spot scrubbed at himself angrily, as if he could scrub away his irritation at the man.

When Spot was younger he always looked forward to it because the man would bring back wonderful things from his adventures. A willow tree with white leaves that lives by attaching itself to others, tropical fruits that wouldn’t be able to survive the harsher months, and plants that Spot still couldn’t name but would watch glow at night. In time the river and pond were stocked with strange fish, the branches of the trees always seemed to have a new bird from a far away land, and there was now even a strange little creature that looked like a raccoon that decided to dye it’s fur red.

Maybe that should have been a hint that things were getting out of hand. Then again, how could Spot have guessed he would jump from animals to elves? Unless his father truly was a monster and didn’t see that much of a difference.

If he had just tried to talk princess Katherine into a sham marriage none of this would have happened. But no, he had to listen to the girl’s idealistic bullshit and admit to his parents that while she was a wonderful friend he in no way wanted to have her for a wife. He didn’t want a wife at all. 

His mother had taken it expectantly well. Nervous, of course, however she was an elf. Things were different for them. 

His father took it decidedly too well. After at first insisting that Spot wasn’t serious he then seemed to go completely false and maintained that charade until his latest trip. 

Spot had expected a string of young women to gently turn down until his father eventually died or gave up. Most likely died. 

But this was unacceptable. No doubt it was an attempt at some sort of deal. Spot gets the poor bastard chained to his bed in exchange for a loveless marriage. Well, not loveless, he has no doubt he’d grow to love any tolerable girl. Just in the same way he loves his mother or that dumb little raccoon thing rather than in the way he’d heard his friends gossip about. 

He paused mid-scrub. He didn’t even know the man chained to his bed’s name. It was bad enough that he had panicked and practically ran from him but he didn’t even ask him his name. Gods he wished he could just drown himself. 

Normally, Spot would let himself soak in the hot water until he was very nearly dizzy however upon realizing what he’d done he all but clamored out of the bath.  
After getting mostly dry he threw on his nightclothes and opened the door only a crack. He felt like a child trying to sneak out of his room and being afraid of being caught.

“I didn’t catch your name.” He asked.

The captive’s eyes shot up without hesitation. While Spot had no doubt that he was terrified he had the uncanny presence of a cornered wildcat. Where had his father found someone with such an intense gaze and how had he had the nerve to attack him? Even with a door mostly between them Spot felt like the man was trying to see his very soul and making a decent go of it.

“You may call me whatever you like.” His voice was devoid of emotion, even more so than before.

Spot was relieved when ‘master’ wasn’t tacked on. “I’d like to call you by your name.” He gasped when it hit him why this man seemed so uncomfortable. “Y-you don’t have to tell me your birth name. Just…what people call you.” He quickly added. Birth names were something sacred for people like his mother, and himself in a way. Using them was the most intimate show of trust because of the magic that could be done with them.

He seemed to relax, if only a fraction. “Hotshot. I was good with a bow.”

“I’m Spot. I was born with the spots on my back and it stuck.” Apparently elvish kids with bloodlines older than dirt sometimes had deer-like spots when they were born that faded with time. It was a surprise for a half-elf to have them so it quickly became an identifier. More of a surprise was the fact that he hadn’t grown out of them yet, maybe he never would. Figured, he was already short. Now he probably looked like a little kid with his shirt off. 

That seemed to piqué Hotshot’s interest but he didn’t allow himself to ask any questions. Spot had to wonder if he’d been explicitly told not to or if it was just him assuming that staying quiet was the safest bet. 

“What…” He took a quick breath as he mulled over the best possible way to phrase it. “What do you think is going to happen here?”

“Whatever you wish to happen, master.” He avoided direct eye contact.

Spot grimaced. “Please, speak freely. You have my word that I will never harm you for it.” 

Hotshot stared at him, or rather through him, looking for any sign that he was lying. “I was darted while climbing down from my home to get water and hit when I referred to any man as something other than master, then rewarded with pain medication when I called them what they wanted. It’s fairly obvious what my intended use is.”

Hotshot seemed to misunderstand the look of horror on Spot’s face. 

“If I’m not what you desire then I can attempt to change my form. I would rather avoid a blade,” He then quickly added. “Master.”

Spot sputtered and hurried around the door. “A blade? No. No. You’re not…Nothing like that is going to happen to you. That’s considered mutilation here.”

“Why would that matter?” He didn’t seem the least bit comforted.

“Because,” Spot sighed and went over to his bookshelf. “Can you read Elvish or Common?” 

“Elvish.” So he was from truly far out. Most anyone that lived near the kingdom could read at least some common.

Spot pulled out an old tome and opened it to the first page. “When this kingdom was first formed it was formed by the leaders of two Elven clans. They found that it was easier for their people to be mistreated if they travelled and harder to seek justice for it so they banded together and built the castle. More importantly they set up a list of three rights that every intelligent being has within the kingdom:

Self-ownership- You cannot be owned by another being. Slavery is outright banned and indentured servitude is to be used as a last resort for the payment of personal debts. Indentured servitude is also to be carefully monitored for mistreatment and the length to be decided by court.  
Safety- Physical punishments for offenses are not allowed unless the accused would rather them to public service, captivity, or exile.  
Equality- You can not be treated with disrespect due to things such as species, race, or gender. Even the lower classes are to be treated with respect as there is no kingdom with no farm.  
They were very basic but they’ve served as the framework what we’ve built all of our laws around. Your situation violates all of them.”

He watched Hotshot pour over the page confirming what he said. “Why?” 

Spot wasn’t sure what he was questioning but he had to assume it was why he was kidnapped. “Honestly? It’s likely my fault. I confessed to my father that I wasn’t interested in marrying princess Katherine of Manhattan. Or any woman.”

“I’m a bargaining chip.” Hotshot seemed to forget himself in a moment of frustration before reeling his sarcasm back in. “I-I mean-“

“It’s alright. You probably are. He likely thinks if I have you he can talk me into a marriage.” Spot sighed. “That’s not happening. Ideally not the marriage but at least not you being some prize. In the morning I’ll take you to meet the two you saw earlier, they’ll be happy to have you stay with them.” 

“Yes m-“ He started. 

“That does mean you’ll have to sleep here tonight.” Spot interrupted to keep from hearing the honorific. “I don’t think I move much in my sleep so I shouldn’t be a bother if we keep to separate sides.” 

Hotshot nodded. 

Spot blew out the candle next to the bed and laid at the edge. It wasn’t that he hadn’t shared a bed with someone before but he’d never even dreamed of being in bed with someone who had no choice in the matter. Every clink of the chain grated on his nerves, setting him on edge and rending him nearly unable to sleep. 

It also didn’t help that elves slept like dead men. Their breathing slowed to the point that you couldn’t perceive it unless you had your head on their chest and they never moved. You could even reposition them in their sleep and they’d maintain whatever position they were placed in. 

Everything about elves seemed geared towards living within nature rather than conquering it. Large ears that could swivel and pinpoint sounds, spots on young children to keep them hidden, and large eyes to let light in even in the dark. Yet he couldn’t fathom what benefit there would be from seeming to be dead every night. 

It was the lack of stillness that told him Hotshot wasn’t truly sleeping. He was just trying to be still. The more self-preserving part of Spot’s brain told him that he could be just waiting to smother him but the reality was honestly more upsetting. Hotshot was likely waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the veil of kindness to be tossed aside now that they were under the cover of darkness. 

Trust couldn’t be earned without trust. Which is why Spot made a show of rolling over and facing away before forcing himself to sleep.


	3. Unboxing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotshot wakes after his first night in the castle.

Hotshot honestly couldn’t put together why the prince would drop his guard so quickly. He surely understood that Hotshot had no reason to be remotely fond of him, yet in the morning the prince was still laying next to him asleep. 

In the night the prince had cuddled up to him yet all of his movements seemed to be unconscious, even when he wrapped an arm around Hotshot he was still dead to the world.

The door flew open to reveal a young boy who seemed to take no notice of Hotshot as he hopped up on the bed. Like the prince he was half-elf.

“Spot! Spot you said you were gonna teach me today!” He practically shook the prince awake. 

“Hmm?” The prince sat up, seemingly confused by this turn of events and too distracted to realize how close he had gotten.

“Whose this? Why’s he tied up?” The boy quizzed. 

“This is Hotshot. It’s because of a misunderstanding. We’re gonna fix it. Hotshot, this is Graves.” He yawned and wiped at his eyes, attempting to wake himself fully.

“Hi Hotshot!” The boy chirped. He reminded Hotshot of a young bird; up in the early hours, a bright voice that pierced through the haze of morning, and dark hair that had the fuzzy texture of a bird’s down. His name was a curiosity considering, nothing at all seemed grave about him.

“Hello.” Hotshot greeted simply, unsure of what to call him. 

“I’ve gotta get everything with Hotshot squared away before I teach you anything today. Tell York he’s gonna fill in for me until I get there.” The prince seemed apologetic for whatever reason; Hotshot assumed he was intruding on some typical morning routine.

The boy seemed put out but didn’t protest. “If he breaks my training sword again I’m gonna give him splinters with it.”

“Sounds fair.” The prince stretched as he stood. “Hurry on so you can catch him before he heads down to the blacksmith.”

“Okay, bye Hotshot! Bye Spot!” The boy was out as quickly as he arrived. 

The prince seemed to be able to tell that he was confused. “He’s my brother. The temple can only take in so many kids without being unable to properly care for them all. When mother found out she occasionally would bring foundlings here. They don’t have any sort of title and I’m not even sure father knows about them but they have everything they could need. The two you saw yesterday were my brothers as well. Myron and Kenny.”

Hotshot had gotten to see the temple from the cage he was dragged in. It was a massive ziggurat-like structure with a rounded marble gazebo on top. Every level had a stream flowing towards a waterfall that fed the next level and it burst with vegetation from every angle. The lower levels held sugar maples and other larger trees spiraling upwards with smaller and smaller plants, such as blueberries and blackberries, until the very top had an apple tree. 

It forced nature back into the town that had grown around it and no doubt provided for the area. He wondered if the humans found it holy or simply pretty. Perhaps it didn’t truly matter as long as it helped those it was intended to.

He nodded as the prince got dressed for the day. When Hotshot glanced over he nearly gasped at the sight of his back. A line of bright white spots started at the base of his neck and decorated either side of his spine while scattered, seemingly random, ones were all across the skin. Hotshot had never heard of an elf keeping spots past the age of thirteen yet here was the prince with childhood camouflage. It was adorable.

“Myron, the tall one who always looks kinda nervous, his father was a gancanagh. He didn’t seem to realize that by seducing a girl he’d doom her to losing her mind. York’s mother was a gorgon, only one of his eyes has the effect though so he just wears a patch.” He shrugged as if to say he wasn’t sure why it was.

“Are they all…” Hotshot paused, was the term halfling acceptable? He didn’t want to risk offending.

“Not all of them, though mother does have a bit of a preference. She knows that even without titles or a name to cling to the fact that they’re under her care means people will be less likely to give them any trouble for their birth.” He seemed caught in his own thoughts and it was rapidly starting to worry Hotshot, had he said the wrong thing?

There was a knock at the door, thankfully freeing him from his worries.

“Come in.” The prince called over his shoulder and seemed to adopt a false presence, commanding rather than whatever his normal tone could be called. 

“Good morning, your Royal Highness.” The human girl from before came in with a tray of food. Smoked salmon, a round loaf of bread, and strawberry preserves; to drink there was what seemed to be mead as well as some kind of milk. Interestingly there seemed to be enough for him as well. 

“Good morning,” Spot pointed to a place on the desk where she could set the tray. “Sarah, do you have the keys to his chains?”

“Of course, sir.” She dug the keys out of her apron and handed them to the prince. 

“Thank you.” The prince quickly unchained him, collar and all, and set the keys aside. “I’ll call for you if I need anything.”

Once the girl left Spot seemed to relax again.

“Eat what you want. I’m never that hungry in the morning.” He took a slice of bread and some of the preserves. “That’s acerglyn, maple mead. Don’t worry; it’s not a very high proof and that’s elk milk.”

Hotshot raised an eyebrow. 

“Cows and horses are a Manhattan thing.” He shrugged. “A long time ago there was some kind of agreement between the kingdoms on what livestock we would use. Manhattan was human heavy so they wanted cows, horses, chicken and pigs. At the time we were almost entirely elven so we chose elk, jackalopes, sheep, and wyrmlings. Well, Eternal Wyrmlings not just young dragons. They don’t get much bigger than a turkey and never really produce more than a few embers.”

“Are the elk still ridden?” He couldn’t help but be curious.

“A few in the royal herd are at least. If they don’t have any interest in it we don’t force them.” Spot laces his boots as he explains. “They don’t do well if you try to make them but the ones that are into it seem to really enjoy it.”

“My father had one.” Hotshot adds without thinking.

The prince leaned in, obviously wanting more information. 

“It was too temperamental for my mother or I to ride but we would make things from the antlers when he shed them. I had a necklace she made for me from it for the longest time.” His hand drifts to his neck.

“What happened?” The prince asked. 

“I was kidnapped.” It came out a little harsher than he intended. “I woke up without it.”

The prince’s face fell. “I’ll find it.” He walked over to the desk and slid open a drawer. “Until then, you probably miss wearing something.” The pendant he pulled out was a simple piece of amber at first glance. As he brought it closer Hotshot could see the rare inclusion that made it something truly special. An apple blossom sat in the amber, forever preserved. “My mother gave me this when I was just a kid, I want you to wear it until I get yours back.”

Hotshot blinked in confusion as the pendant was tied around his neck. It felt vastly different to the collar. “Why?” 

The prince paused, seemingly not sure what to say. “Because it feels like the right thing to do.”

Hotshot placed his hand over the pendant and watched as the prince drifted towards the bathroom. 

“I’m going to wash up. Eat what you want.” The prince hurried into the other room and let the door shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiding in the bathroom anytime you feel awkward is valid shut up.


	4. Actual chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally posted 5 in 4's place let me see if I can fix that

Spot was pleased to see that once Hotshot lacked an audience he had apparently taken it upon himself to decimate the food. He must have been starving. The idea that he wasn’t being fed well, or at all, worried him.

“The others live near the stables. You know how Manhattan has those ladies-in-waiting? The boys have similar jobs. I’m supposed to know way more than one person can figure out so they become an expert in one thing and are there to help out when it’s needed. Like remembering everyone’s names and titles. If Myron didn’t lean over and whisper them all into my ear at every event I’d be screwed. Kenny is better with languages than I am so he accompanies me as a translator. York has never met a weapon he couldn’t use so he helps me keep my skills sharp. Bart makes sure I look decent before events. Joey handles communication with Manhattan. Then there’s Raf. Rafaella handles all the sneaky shit I can’t stand.”

Spot notices a look of curiosity cross Hotshot’s face. 

“I’m not a fan of cloak and dagger shit. If you have a problem with someone you should just say it. Not send them poisoned wine or pay an assassin. It’s cowardly and dishonorable. Not that I think Raf is either of those things. They’re just good at what they do.” He explains.

“Do they know you dislike it?” Hotshot asks as he follows. 

“Yeah.” Spot sighs. “They try to make me see it their way when they can.”

“That speaks to their desire to keep you safe.” He starts. “My father would often infuriate me by not allowing me to come with him as he hunted bounties. He would tell me that the duty of someone who loves you is to keep you safe first, make you pleased with them second.” 

That was more than Hotshot had said since he’d arrived. It seemed like taking the collar off did wonders for his comfort. “You’ve started to speak more.”

“Is that… alright, m-sir?” He cringed, likely expecting to be hit for stopping himself. 

Spot stopped and gently placed his hand on Hotshot’s arm. “It’s very alright. It’s great.”

The stables were barely visible until you approached but Spot loved seeing them every chance he got. Built into the hillside and covered in grass themselves they were like extensions of the land. Wide arched doorways allowed for the horned animals to pass in and out with ease. 

The boys’ lodging was close by and built in a similar fashion. The turf roof almost hid the building away but the bright red door hinted that this wasn’t just another stable. It had once belonged to the herd master but he long since moved into the castle as it was just too large for him to justify having. 

“I know it looks a bit small but it’s dug into the hillside. It keeps it warmer in the winter.” He explains as they get closer. 

Interestingly there seemed to be a commotion. A fawn had found it’s way onto the roof and didn’t seem to know how to get down while Graves was beginning to panic. 

“What if it starves?” Graves tried to climb up onto the roof and fell onto his back. As he fell the fawn gave a nervous bleat. 

“It won’t.” York leaned against the side of the building, he’d lived in this building for years and had probably seen fawns be born up on the roof. 

“But what if it does?” Graves gave climbing another shot.

York didn’t seem at all fazed. “It’ll jump.”

“But what if it breaks its leg?” Tears formed in the corner of his eyes.

“We’ll take it to a healer.” York assured him. “It’ll be fine.”

“But-“ He began.

“What’s going on?” Spot interrupted.

“We-“ York started. 

“A baby got stuck! It’s gonna starve to death!” Graves ran up to Spot and threw his arms around his waist. 

“Graves, usually if they get up there they can get down.” Spot gently explained. 

“But it’s so scared!” Graves pointed back towards the fawn. It did look decently distraught, but that could be from the chaos rather than being stuck. 

Spot paused as he watched Hotshot climb up the building and lead the fawn back down with ease. The fawn followed each of Hotshot’s graceful steps and seemed much happier the moment it was back on solid ground. 

“It got nervous.” Hotshot said simply as the fawn nibbled at his clothes. He nudged the animal gently and it took off in the direction of the larger herd. 

Graves quickly wrapped his arms around Hotshot’s leg. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

“So I take it you’re the,” York paused to glance at Graves. “Guy Myron and Kenny were talking about. Nice to meet you.” 

Spot watched as York held his hand out and Hotshot stared like he was debating what could go wrong. He seemed to constantly be expecting things to turn sour for no reason. Spot was tempted to assure Hotshot that it was alright but it could be taken as an order, everything could be with him. 

After a heavy moment Hotshot took York’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” He parroted with no real emotion. Spot wondered if that was a defense mechanism, hiding any and all emotion that he can so that he won’t be punished. Then again he may simply be naturally understated.

Ever the subtle one York sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Wow this is fucked up. On the bright side forced abdication is in the bag now.”

“Would you shut the fuck up before you get someone killed?” Spot lowered his voice to a hiss. “If he’s willing to make someone a pet I’m sure he’s willing to make you an example. Just…Just show Hotshot around and don’t be stupid okay? I have to deal with some things.”

York opened his mouth to say something. Likely to ask something. 

“Things I’m not about to tell your loud ass mouth about.” He glanced at Graves. “Also don’t curse around the fuckin’ kid.” 

Graves giggled into Hotshot’s leg as he left.


	5. Sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotshot is shown around the lodging house and meets another one of the Brooklyn boys.

The lodging was honestly far nicer than anything underground Hotshot had ever imagined. He had grown up in a series of tree houses far above the earth and had only ventured into caves when absolutely necessary; yet this was built like a den rather than a cold cavern. 

The far wall was the very stone of the mountain it was built into. Mostly undecorated the only portion of it that had been altered was the large fireplace that had been carved into it. 

The area surrounding the fireplace was simple, yet inviting. A light grey knitted blanket laid in front of the fire and on it was a young harpy hybrid spinning wool into yarn with a drop spindle. His wings were spread open lazily revealing red bars across his wings, patches of feathers grew amongst his hair, and from his knees down he had rather intimidating raptor-like legs ending in sharp talons.

Laying on his legs was a tremendous tortoiseshell cat with tufts of hair sticking up from it’s ears. The huge tuft of fur under it’s neck and huge size told Hotshot that it had to be one of the cats from the secluded confederation of Maine. Maybe the creature had been a gift. All Hotshot could be sure of was that he would hate to be an unaware mouse that wandered into it’s sight.

“Joey we got a new guy.” York pat Hotshot on the shoulder. 

“Oh,” He sat his things down and hopped up. The monster of a cat seemed relatively unfazed. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Joey.”

Hotshot nodded. “I’m Hotshot.”

“Spot told me to show him around and not be stupid.” York laughed.

“Well we can handle the first part.” Joey grined. “I’ll show you the bedroom.” 

The bunks seemed as if they’re built into the wall with a natural wood covering them. “Myron and Kenny have that wall.” Joey pointed to the shorter far wall that only had two bunks. “York and I have these two.” He sat on his bunk and indicated the bunk next to his. “Graves sleeps above York and Raf above me. We can make room for you though.”

“You won’t need to.” Hotshot said without thinking. 

“What?” Joey cocked his head to one side as if Hotshot is speaking a completely different language.

“I’m supposed to sleep with the prince….” He was explicitly told that he was to stay with who he was gifted. Now that he thought about it was this a violation of those rules? The prince did leave him here. Surely he wouldn’t be punished for following the prince’s orders.

The older two glance at each other. 

“You don’t have to.” Joey started.

“Don’t stress the guy. Dunno what he’s been told.” York quietly interrupted before Joey could continue. “If he feels like he’s gotta then that’s Spot’s problem. Not ours.”

It turned out that York liked to wear a façade of ignorance that could be let down at a moment’s notice when he needed to. It made sense; someone of his strength likely rarely needed to actually think through his problems when smashing them would work just as well. 

Joey seemed uneasy about the idea but let it slide for now. “Just in case though, we can find room for you.”

The boy seemed to have the protective nature of his non-human species. Harpies were often regarded as vicious when in reality they were simply as fiercely caring as other birds. It only came across as vicious when they were drawn into a fight. 

“Yeah! You’re always welcome here.” York grinned. “We’re always happy to add one more misfit.”

“Misfits?” Hotshot could feel his ears twitch in confusion. “Based on what I heard from the Prince you seem to be integral to his success and well being. It seems like you fit just perfectly.”

Joey’s face went a soft shade of pink. “I, uh, integral?” His wings were drawn in close so he could toy with the pale spotted primaries. “We’re integral?”

York simply burst into laughter. It was a loud, yet welcoming sound. “You think he’d last an hour at a ball without My there? He’d lock himself in the nearest bathroom and hide until it was over.”

So that was a common occurrence.

“Be nice,” Joey chided. “He’s the best tactician in the kingdom and sometimes he even beats you when sparing.”

“So he’d be a perfect general.” York conceded. “A prince has to be that and a politician, and a socialite, and a spy. Look me in the eyes and tell me he’s any good at listening to some foreign dignitary blather on about something stupid. It’s like you can watch him dying by degrees.”

Joey barely suppressed a laugh. “That’s fair.”

“I think he could do all of that!” Graves insisted.

“You don’t count,” York teased. “You think he puts the stars up every night rather than Sehanine.” 

Hotshot couldn’t hide his surprise. Yes he was only half human but he’d never seen a human speak of elven gods like they were their own. 

“Does this kingdom have a patron deity?” He had to ask.

The three stared at each other as they tried to remember.

“Khalreshaar I think.” York finally offered. “Supposedly when the originals were trying to figure out where to build the castle she shot an arrow from Prospect and it landed here. The founders took that to mean she wanted it here. Sure enough they found both the hot springs and most of the rock used in the castle in this valley. You’re also not allowed to cut trees down in Prospect without specific permission from the crown. Same for any walled off area where you see a unicorn head carved into the wall.”

“I thought that’s cause there’s unicorns in there?” Graves’ eyes were wide.

“If they’re anywhere they’re deep in that place. People go into Prospect and they’re never seen again.” Joey’s feathers puffed up. 

Hotshot had to bite back the urge to laugh. Of course the only half-elven goddess would be the patron goddess of this place. If there was any settlement the forest goddess would actually approve of it would probably be here. 

The revelation was almost enough to push his worries about the prince not being there from his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretend I uploaded this yesterday and didn't take all of my deities from DnD.


	6. Giftgivers

“What do you mean I can’t see him?” Spot demanded of the advisor. 

“The king requested no visitors. No exceptions. Not even the queen is allowed to see him.” They wouldn’t budge in the slightest.

“Well tell him that I need to see him the moment he’s done being weird.” He stomped off towards the kitchens.

His fury melted away as he heard his mother’s laughter drift up the stairs. She always managed to make him feel better, even when it was just the sound of her. 

The kitchens were always a place of joy. Two stone bread ovens that are always in use, various cauldrons, and hanging herbs made the room feel like home. It was no wonder his mother spent much of her free time there.

As he descended the steps he could hear her warm voice. 

“I’ll get it next time.” A laugh trickled through her words. 

“Or you’ll set yourself on fire.” That sounded like Zophia, the rusalka from far off Poland. She and his mother were very close. Close enough that it caused whispers in court. 

“Oh I’m sure there’s plenty of water to put me out.” Her long dark hair was pulled away from her face using two small braids that form a small crown before cascading down her back along with the rest of her chestnut waves. His mother’s deep brown doe eyes were fixated on the roaring fire of the stone oven as she smiled. “That’s the trick with magic, darling, you’re bound to get singed eventually.”

“Are you trying to bake with magic again?” Spot chastised with a fond grin. “Isn’t that an entire school of magic by itself because it’s so difficult?”

She made a face. “I will learn it. Baking by hand is fun enough but I get so impatient waiting.”

He shook his head. “Just be careful or you’ll kill Zo with worry.”

“Of course.” She seemed to glide over the ground as she walked over to him. Elves and their grace. “Now, what’s wrong? You only come down here when something’s bothering you.”

He sighed, might as well get to the heart of the matter. “Father took an elven boy as some sort of slave and presented him to me as a gift. He was chained to my bed.”

Horror and sorrow swept over his mother’s face before she could rein it in. “Your father has been…concerned. He doesn’t seem to fully understand that your body may not conform to human standards. Your baby spots are a sign that should you find a man you love you may be able to carry a child. Your father is rather convinced that you will someday marry a woman to have an heir. This is likely…”

“A bribe.” Spot provided.

“Yes. It’s inexcusable, however, he feels like there’s a reason for it.” She soothed a stray hair. 

“And now he won’t accept any visitors at all.” Spot felt as if he sounded like a whiny child. 

“I’ve been told he doesn’t feel well.” His mother didn’t seem like she truly believed that excuse. 

“He hasn’t been well for a while.” He mumbled under his breath.

“Don’t get caught saying such things. Just in case. I know you want to handle this, but leave it to me for now.” She kisses his forehead. “Now, where is this boy?” 

“I sent him down to be with the guys. They should look after him.” He gestured back over his shoulder as if she would be able to see through the walls of the castle. Sometimes it felt like she could. 

“Zo, would you mind finishing up here while I go meet our guest?” She rolled her long bell sleeves down as she readied herself to go meet Hotshot. 

“Of course your majesty.” Zophia smiled and got to work on whatever was in the oven. Likely charcoal at this point. 

As they walked Spot found himself talking about the elf boy. His name, what he was like, and most importantly the wrongs that had been done to him. “And someone apparently stole the necklace Hotshot’s mother carved for him! It’s outrageous!”

“That’s awful.” When something brought his mother down it was like the very air around her became melancholy. Maybe it was the magic that flowed from her, or perhaps it was just the way she carried herself. “I can’t imagine having everything stripped from you in such a way.”

“I’m letting him borrow the one you gave me until I find it. I hope that’s alright.” He’s not sure why he suddenly felt so sheepish about it. 

She raised an eyebrow and a soft smile that she usually only wore when she was winning at cards or backing an official into a corner graced her features. “It’s quite alright. I’m sure that makes him feel much better.”

When approaching the lodging Spot walked out ahead and knocked to give the guys a bit of warning. Just in case one of them was up to something stupid like drying themselves off naked by the fire. “Hey, It’s me and mom. She wants to meet Hotshot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shut up im bad at deadlines


	7. Toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Queen makes her way to the lodging house.

Hotshot felt his chest clench when he heard the prince. The queen? Why would she want to see him? Had he done something wrong? 

The men around him moved in a blur, picking up clothes and attempting to make themselves look presentable. It was only mildly messy but he could understand the terror.

“Come in!” Graves called, not seeming to understand. He only saw the woman as a mother. Not a powerful elven queen who had seen kingdoms rise and fall. 

The other boys had their hands over his mouth as the door opened. 

She was ethereal. It was always said that elves would resemble one of three creatures. Foxes, those with amber in their eyes and ears that faced the front. Cats, with green eyes and rounded tips to their ears. Then there were deer, beautiful creatures with huge brown eyes and ears that stick out from their skulls. 

The queen’s doe eyes scanned the room before settling on him. That’s when she smiled at him. He couldn’t fathom why. He was still dressed as a plaything, he likely shouldn’t even be in her presence. 

“You must be Hotshot.” Her steps seemed like the careful movements of a dancer. She was an oddity in the lodging house. While the lodging was comfortable her being there was still like seeing a crystal statue in a humble log home. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

He couldn’t force himself to make eye contact. All he could do was stare at her feet and shake. Shouldn’t he be bowing? No one else was. He didn’t want to offend. 

“Boys, would you mind stepping out for a moment?” She gently shooed the others. The prince included. 

He tried his best not to panic. He truly did. However, he could feel it clawing at the back of his throat. 

“Hotshot, are you alright? Be honest please.” Her gentle insistence made her impossible to lie to, she didn’t even need to use magic.

“No ma’am.” Hotshot’s answer was quiet. 

“What’s wrong?” She sounded more like a mother than a queen. Perhaps the best queens sounded like this. He had always heard that a queen was the mother of her nation. 

“The queen is speaking to me in private.” He couldn’t imagine any reason why she would want to unless he had done something wrong. 

“Oh dear…” She knelt slightly to take his hands in hers. They were just as warm as the rest of her. “You don’t need to be any more afraid of me than the other boys.”

“I’m not the other boys.” He whispered.

“No, you’re not.” She sat on her knees in front of him and Hotshot is stunned at the impropriety of it. “You’re not a stray looking for a home. You’re a prisoner. Stolen from his home to be a toy. It’s a wrong that I’ll do everything in my power to right. Until then you will be safe under my son’s watch. I know the word of a stranger means very little however you still have it. Just as you have the necklace I crafted.”

“I…I can’t sleep here.” He admitted. “I have to sleep with who I was presented to. It’s what I was told.”

Her eyes softened and for a moment it seemed like she would cry. The thought made Hotshot feel dizzy. “Spot won’t mind. You won’t be punished either way, however he won’t mind sharing. Graves slips into his bed every once and a while anyway.” 

She stood slowly and carefully brushed herself off. “None of the boys have given you any trouble have they?”

“No ma’am. They’ve been nothing but kind.” They truly had been. 

“Good.” She nodded and brushed a stray hair out of his eyes before heading back to the door. “If they had they would be mucking out stalls for a year.”

The others had dispersed by the time the queen opened the door, with the exception of the prince. He paced nervously waiting on the two. 

“You’ll worry yourself into your deathbed.” She teased, kissing the prince’s forehead. 

“Is everything alright?” The prince quickly asked. 

“It is, although, would you mind letting Hotshot stay with you tonight?” The queen then explained. “He’s concerned that he won’t be properly doing his job if he sleeps out here.”

Anger passes over the prince’s features as he processes his mother’s words and Hotshot finds himself feeling more self-conscious than fearful. The realization that that anger was on his behalf rather than directed at him had him flustered. Truly the men who conditioned him did not understand who he was being gifted to.

Perhaps he would end up being okay here so long as the prince was there to ensure his safety.


	8. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spot has a dream and I have to up the rating on this fic because of it.

Somehow it was even stranger to get ready for bed when the man sharing his bed with him wasn’t chained to it. He could feel eyes on him as he stripped down to his tunic. Red with careful pink embroidery and black trim; he preferred to be surrounded in the colors of Brooklyn rather than of simple opulence. These colors meant far more to him than purple and gold. 

Red, passion and defiance. Red was the color of blood and fire, two vital aspects of nature that can either be signs of life or it’s end. It was an easy choice for the kingdom. Pink for the spring that returns no matter how harsh the winter. Then black for the mystery in the world that cannot be controlled. 

Green was the unspoken fourth color. While not used on anything official any dash of pink often found itself surrounded in green while the red and black were intertwined. 

Staring at his own clothing was almost enough to make him forget the elf sitting on his bed as if he was awaiting orders. Spot wondered if he would ever be able to actually speak to Hotshot or if everything would be stilted. Would the man always be on edge, waiting to be punished for some supposed wrongdoing? Would he always feel like he was somehow the one that had kidnapped him?

He washed off more quickly than he would have liked, feeling like he shouldn’t leave his…guest? Was Hotshot a guest? It was doubtful that he would ever be able to go home. At least not with father around. 

He slipped his nightshirt on and thankfully found that Hotshot had laid down while he was gone. Maybe he was at least becoming more comfortable. 

Spot laid next to his still body, only the sound of breathing hinting that Hotshot was alive. He was stunning like this. Without his face marred with worry. 

Spot drifted off admonishing himself for even noticing. 

Nearly as soon as he closed his eyes hands were on him. Pushing his nightshirt up his chest and revealing every bit of skin he had to offer. Soft lips trailed their way from his neck to his chest and finally to his hips. The gentle attention and barely there touches had him whining close to begging even as he wasn’t sure who it was whose hands were on him.   
His sleep-addled mind abandoned all thoughts of propriety and even safety as he mewled out. “P-Please. More.”

“Such a good little prince.” He knew that voice. “You want me to take you don’t you?”

“F-fuck. Hotshot. Yes.” He yelped as teeth imbedded themselves into his hip. 

“Language.” Hotshot kissed the mark before leaning up to catch his lips. “You want to be a good boy for me don’t you?”

“Y-Yes sir.” He wanted to be the best boy. 

Spot wasn’t sure when things shifted but it seemed like an instant before Hotshot had him on his hands and knees. Hotshot’s teeth were in his neck and his hips snapped into Spot’s at a speed he didn’t even think was possible. Just when he thought he was painfully close Hotshot sent him barreling over the edge as he growled out:

“You’re going to look so cute when I knock you up.”

Spot hit his orgasm with a force so hard that it seemed to shake the world apart. It did, in fact, wake him up. He laid in bed gasping and red as he realized what just happened. It was a small mercy that Hotshot didn’t seem to have woken up. 

He slipped off to the bathroom to clean himself up before he was noticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday velocitytimes2!


	9. Antique

Hotshot woke up alone. It was a situation that only a few weeks ago he would have been accustomed to however now he found it unsettling. Had he done something wrong in his sleep? Something he couldn’t even remember?

Roasted corn on the cob, scrambled dragon egg, and blueberry scones waited for him next to the bed. The tea was even still warm so Sarah must have been in the room only moments before. 

As Hotshot pulled the tray closer he saw a note under the plate:

Hotshot, 

I didn’t want to wake you but I won’t be around much today. I’m assisting my parents in preparing for a dinner tonight. 

I’d recommend spending most of today in the library. You'd probably like it. 

-Spot.

He sighed in relief when he found a drawn map on the other side. He would have hated to wander around the castle attempting to find the library on his own.   
Assuming the food was for him felt dangerous, however the prince could have easily eaten what he wanted before leaving. 

Corn would probably always be a foreign taste to him. To him breakfasts were often dried venison and roasted hazelnuts. There really wasn’t much that could be grown in a garden when you lived ten feet off the ground. Though mother did have a patch of wild strawberries that she looked after.

Brooklyn, like many of the realms stretching from Mesoamerica onwards used companion planting to grow corn, squashes, and beans together. He wasn’t sure if elves had a term for it but native humans referred to them as the three sisters. 

From what he saw around the temple as he was carted in they used pumpkins and green beans along with the corn. 

The library was fascinating. Its curved walls seemed to have books of every size and shape. There was even a collection of aged scrolls. He suspected that some were older than the kingdom itself. 

In the center of the room was an apple tree carved out of marble. The attention to detail was phenomenal. There were even natural flaws such as rips in leaves. Whoever carved this piece must have been a master.

He drifted towards the older books and found one in elvish. It was ancient poetry on every topic from falling blossoms to deep and undying love. Poetry was one of his favorite arts, the words seemed to float off the page and swirl around his mind before drifting down to his heart. 

Hours seemed to pass in a matter of moments as he all but devoured the words on the yellowed pages. He barely noticed the sun beginning to set behind the distant waves. 

It was truly a shock when he heard a distant scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *screams in late update*


	10. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was the prince up to while Hotshot was reading poetry?

Spot didn’t dislike the fancy dinners that he had to attend with his family, the ones with Manhattan could honestly be entertaining at times, he just wished that he was allowed to be himself. 

The rules were such that he couldn’t speak unless spoken to or otherwise permitted and his father wasn’t about to give him that luxury. 

At least princess Katherine had managed to bring along a few of her bizarre entourage. Jack Kelly had even shown up and brought along some new chatty guy that Spot actually hadn’t met before. If the great and insufferable Jack Kelly and was somehow in attendance then at least her favorite stable hand is probably off getting drunk with the boys. Even drunk Racetrack would probably be better at dealing with the social ins and outs of what to do about Hotshot. 

Sarah set each drink down only to pause when she got to Spot. “I was told to bring you this mead since you’re not a wine person.”

At least there was some mercy left in the world. 

He quietly thanked her and went back to wondering what he was going to say to Race the moment he managed to get him away from the others. 

His father had apparently begun speaking while Spot was zoned out. Spot did his best to refocus on what the king was saying.

“-And to that I say, a toast. To the future.” He raised his cup high and drank greedily. 

Sure, the future, that was easy enough to toast to. Spot raised his cup to his lips and drank. 

Odd. 

Yes he was having mead but he didn’t remember ever having one that tasted this sweet. 

His world began to swim. It was fuzzy, hard to keep his eyes open.

Dread, horror, and fury gripped him as he glanced at his father with wide eyes. Maybe he’d switched the cups? Maybe it was meant for someone else? Yes the man was a bastard but he wouldn’t poison his own son. 

The stony expression on his father’s face was all Spot needed. His father wanted to be rid of him and was using this as the perfect out. So many witnesses who might just play along. How dare that new servant girl poison the prince? You saw her give him a different cup. Execute her right away, no trial needed. 

He’d sooner spend a thousand years in this swirling sea of torment then allow the man to pin this on an innocent. If he would die it would at least be spitefully. 

“Fuckin’…kinslayer!” Spot flung the remainder of the cup at his father before losing his balance and falling from his chair to the hard stone floor. As his vision started to fade he could hear his mother scream his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> doesn't update in months.  
> updates and poisons somebody immediately.


	11. Gifts, alchemical and magical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The queen makes her opinion of certain people plainly clear.

Hotshot rushed into the room head on expecting to be some sort of help only to watch as the queen wrested complete control of the room. 

“Arrest that s-“ The king began to try and implicate the servant before the sound of metal against metal distracted him. 

“Absolutely not.” The queen pulled the sword from the sheath of the guard nearest to her surprising not only him, but everyone else in the room. “I heard my son. I’ll not have you destroy a child’s life for your own selfishness. Guards, escort the king to his chambers.”

“You’re out of your mind!” The king indignantly squawked. “This is my cour-“

“You will leave and face trail later or you will face your execution now.” The very air around her seemed to darken with her threat as she advanced, given the magic she controlled it likely did. Hotshot had no doubts that she would fight him to the death right there. 

“You’ll regret this.” He hissed as the guards carefully escorted him away.

“My only regret is not slipping an asp into your bed you kin slaying monster.” She kept the sword pointed at him until he was gone. Whisked away behind a large door. The moment it was shut she tossed the sword aside like it was nothing but a toy and ran to her son’s side. 

The large blue sleeves splayed out to her side as she curled over the prince gave her the appearance of some sort of nameless exotic bird that had been shot from the sky. Something indescribably beautiful yet so deeply wounded that it makes you feel like you shot the very arrow that doomed her by just witnessing the suffering. 

The silence that gripped the room was deafening as she cradled his head. No one seemed to have any desire to move. Disturbing a mother as she grieved was not something any of the guests wanted to risk. 

That was, except for one of the Manhattanites who was doing his best to clamor over the table despite another’s silent attempts to stop him. The dark haired boy snatched the discarded cup and immediately brought it to his nose, face brightening so much you would have thought he’d been crowned the successor. 

“Fern flower! Jack, it has fern flower in it!” He leans over the table and offers the cup to the Queen, who slowly stands and takes the cup. Her eyebrows rise as she sniffs at it.

“Davey don-“ Jack desperately tried to stop him only for Davey to quickly continue.

“No known deadly poison has fern flower in it. The only one I know of that even comes close is Living Death where the victim appears dead but can be woken up at a later date. Either the king wanted to have the prince out of the picture for only a short time or he didn’t understand that Living Death won’t kill.” Davey explains practically bursting with excitement. 

“No.” The queen says with a sigh, life seeming to return to her eyes as she sets the cup down. “His aim was to fix something that wasn’t broken with the cure.”

“The cure?” Hotshot takes a step forward; eager to hear how they can help Spot. The prince had done nothing to earn any of this and he’d be more than happy to do what he could to heal him. 

“Well, fern flower is magic.” Davey starts. “So there’s a certain amount of magic required to reverse the affects-“

“True love’s kiss.” The queen says simply. “It’s an old method, but this is an old poison.”

Davey nods as she speaks. 

“He was no doubt hoping that we would amass a string of young women until one woke the prince. Then a marriage would be arraigned. It’s hard to argue with results. However, I have a different idea.” As she finishes her eyes fall on Hotshot. 

Hotshot stilled. What would this have to do with him?

The queen’s voice is soft but sure as she asks Hotshot something he would have sworn was impossible. “Hotshot. I ask that you, with our guests as witness, wake the prince.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im running out of gift-y titles

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas! This will be updated ideally once a week!


End file.
